


today it just goes with the fashion

by fatal_drum



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Begging, Dirty Talk, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Peter is thirsty as hell and I don't blame him, Trans Martin Blackwood, a smidge of accidental voyeurism, front hole penetration, it's the Magnus Institute what do you expect, pleasing Martin is a tough job but Peter's up for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 21:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum
Summary: Peter glimpses something intriguing under Martin's clothes and is compelled to investigate.He always did love a man in pink.





	today it just goes with the fashion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Exces_KaboomBOOM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exces_KaboomBOOM/gifts).



> Happy birthday to the wonderful @exces_kaboomBOOM! <3 He requested Peter/Martin, the color pink, and a Martin who feels comfortable in his own skin.
> 
> Title snagged from [Pink](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZfbBqBOSXlU) by Aerosmith.

Martin tries very hard to look grown-up these days, now that he’s working for Peter. Peter finds it quite charming. Gone are the faded jeans and t-shirts, replaced with only slightly wrinkled office wear. His shoes are a little scuffed, but he’s upgraded from his battered trainers.

It’s a bit like watching a child play dress-up, but Martin is no child. There’s no mistaking him for anything other than a man.  He’s nearly as tall as Peter, who’s used to towering over his lovers, and his shoulders are nice and broad. His body is soft in all the right places, with an arse that makes Peter’s mouth water.

There’s no need to rush things, however. He enjoys a good seduction, planting the seeds of desire and watching them grow. He takes pleasure in the way Martin’s eyes follow him across the room, lingering on the muscles of his chest and arms. It’s only a matter of time before Martin gives in to the inevitable.

“Mr. Lukas?” Martin says, hovering at the door to Peter’s office. He always asks permission before entering, as if Peter would ever deny him.

“Come in.” Peter waves him inside.“What can I do for you?”

“I got the records you requested.” Martin says, brandishing a thick folder.

“Thank you, Martin. You can put them down over there.” Peter gestures to the small side table.

“Right.” Martin squares his shoulders and heads for the table, but somehow he manages to trip over his own feet, and papers fly everywhere.

“Shit! Sorry.”

Martin bends to collect the scattered files, and his trousers dip dangerously low, revealing a flash of unexpected color: a strip of pink fabric. The color is tantalizing against his drab office wear, a promise of something sweet hidden beneath the surface. Much like Martin himself these days, trying (and failing) to conceal his softness.

Peter has always loved a man in pink. Involuntarily, he rises to his feet, closing the distance between them. Martin stands up again, and Peter’s hands come to rest on his hips.

“M-mister Lukas?”

“What have we here?” Peter asks, squeezing gently.

Martin shivers in his grasp.  “Mr. Lukas, I don’t—”

Peter turns Martin so his back is against the table, then rests his hands on Martin’s waist. Martin looks up at him. His face is flushed as pink as his drawers.

“Mr. Lukas, this is highly inappropriate,” Martin says shakily.

Peter strokes the skin above Martin’s waistband. The maddening strip of rosy fabric is just barely visible. Martin licks his lips nervously.

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” Peter says, leaning close.

Martin is silent as Peter nuzzles his ear. Peter brushes his lips against Martin’s neck just to watch him squirm. Martin’s breath is coming faster.

Peter trails a hand up Martin’s soft belly until it rests against his chest. The flesh is firmer here, compressed by his binder.

“Tell me to stop,” Peter whispers, and leans in for a kiss.

Martin makes a startled sound, and Peter sucks on Martin’s lower lip until he whimpers. His mouth tastes of honeyed tea. Peter’s hand drifts down to the button of Martin’s trousers, and Martin’s hands seize his shoulders.

“I’d like to see what you’ve got on under these,” Peter murmurs. “I have a feeling it’s _delicious.”_

Martin nods shakily, and Peter thumbs open the button and lowers Martin’s zip, pushing his trousers down past his hips.  

“Oh, this is lovely,” Peter says.

Martin squirms at the praise. His boxers are cotton candy pink with charming little hearts, sugary-sweet like the rest of him. Peter drinks in the sight of the bright fabric against Martin’s freckled skin. A trail of hair leads down past the waistband, curling strands with a reddish gleam. Peter needs to see more.

Martin lets Peter push his shirt up, raising his arms obediently. His binder is a darker pink than the pants, and it’s just as appealing.  

“Lovely boy,” Peter says, sinking to his knees to nuzzle Martin’s hip.

Martin’s hands grip his shoulders as Peter wanders inward, kissing a trail down the front of his boxers until Martin makes a low, choked sound. Peter can make out the outline of Martin’s cock through the thin fabric, and he gives it a friendly lick.

_“Peter—”_

“Let me take care of you,” Peter says, rubbing his face against the damp fabric. He can smell Martin’s arousal, a sweet musk that makes his mouth water.

“S-someone might come in,” Martin stammers.

“Lucky them,” Peter says, nipping at Martin’s thighs. Martin gasps, his fingers tightening on Peter’s shoulders.

 _“Peter,”_ Martin says, more sternly this time.

“Fine, I’ll lock the door.” Peter rises to steal one last kiss from Martin’s lips before making good on his promise, then returns to the desk. Elias’s desk. Somehow he doubts Elias ever put it to such excellent use. He wonders if Elias is watching them now. Oh, how his blood would boil. The thought makes Peter smile, but not as much as what he’s about to do.

“Come here,” Peter says. Martin pulls up his trousers long enough to walk to the desk, cheeks flushed an even brighter pink. Peter can’t help but kiss him again.

“As lovely as these are, they’re a bit in the way.” He snaps the waistband of Martin’s pants for emphasis.

Slowly, haltingly, Martin lowers his pants and trousers to the floor. His cock is swollen and flushed, standing out from a thatch of neatly trimmed curls. Peter reaches around to squeeze Martin’s rump, then lifts him onto the desk. Martin makes a startled sound, unused to being lifted so easily.

“Gorgeous,” Peter murmurs, kneeling in front of him. He kisses a trail up Martin’s thighs, kneading the smooth skin. The scent his stronger here, and the soft hair is already damp with arousal. Peter has a feeling he’s in for a treat.

Nuzzling his way inward, Peter licks the slick folds, working his way up to Martin’s rigid cock. Martin cries out at the first touch of his tongue, gripping Peter’s hair tightly.

“You taste divine,” Peter murmurs, sucking the tip into his mouth. Martin moans and clutches him tightly. Peter takes him to the root, then pulls back to lave his cock with his tongue, small, teasing strokes that make Martin’s thighs tremble beneath his hands.

“Why are you so good at this?” Martin demands, then slaps his hand over his mouth to contain a whimper.

“Practice and enthusiasm,” Peter says, before his mouth his full again.

Peter’s always loved sucking cock, enjoyed losing himself in the taste and the rhythm. He strokes Martin’s thighs, his hips, his plump little arse. Soon Martin’s thighs are clenching around Peter’s head, muscles quivering, and he comes with a low cry. Peter sucks and licks him through it, wringing out every bit of pleasure he can, until Martin whines and pushes him away. Peter’s face is soaked all the way to his chin. He grins and kisses Martin’s thighs.

“Oh, my god,” Martin murmurs. _“Fuck.”_

“That part’s next, if you like.” Peter sits in Elias’s chair, pulling Martin into his lap. Martin’s head lolls against his shoulder, and he lets Peter pet him. There’s sweat beading on his neck and chest, soaking through the binder.

“Getting hot?” Peter asks. “You can take it off if you want.”

Martin considers for a moment before reaching down to pull the garment over his head. It’s tight, so he has to shimmy a bit, but it leaves Peter with a lapful of naked assistant, which is a definite plus. He plants a kiss on the center of Martin’s chest. The hair is thicker here than on his belly, and he grabs a handful and tugs, making Martin squirm in his lap. His thigh rubs against Peter’s cock, making him groan.

Intrigued, Martin reaches down to stroke him through his trousers. “You really did enjoy it,” he murmurs thoughtfully.

“Would you like to see how _much_ I enjoyed it?” Peter offers, hand moving to his buckle. At Martin’s nod, he opens his belt and trousers, sighing as his cock springs free.

 _“Oh,”_ Martin says, eyes wide.

Peter smirks. He’s proud of his cock, and for good reason.

Martin licks his lips unconsciously. “C-can I…?”

“By all means, be my guest,” Peter says, gesturing to his cock with a welcoming flourish.

Martin rolls his eyes but still reaches out to grasp him. His hands are soft, but he strokes Peter firmly.

“Do you want it in you?” Peter asks in a low voice.

“Only if you’ve got condoms,” Martin answers, seemingly unimpressed, though he doesn’t take his hand or his eyes off Peter’s cock.

Peter feigns shock. “Condoms? In this, the most sacred bastion of the Ceaseless Watcher? What do you take me for?”

“If you don’t want to…” Martin says, calling his bluff.

Peter chuckles and bends to kiss his throat. “In my wallet. Check the drawer behind you.”

Peter spins the chair to give him easier access, and soon Martin’s rolling a condom down over Peter’s cock. Martin rises to straddle his lap, rubbing his wet hole over against Peter and making them both moan. His slick is already dripping onto Peter’s trousers. They’re both going to smell of sex for hours. Peter considers making a trip down to the archives later, just for a chat, before he returns his focus to the present.

Reaching between them, Peter wraps his hand around both their cocks, rubbing them together and making Martin whimper.

“If I’d known you’d look so good naked in my lap, I would have done this a long time ago,” Peter says. “Are you ready?”

Martin lifts himself up, steadying himself against Peter’s chest with one hand and gripping Peter’s cock with the other. Slowly, he sinks down onto Peter’s cock with a low moan. Peter grips his hips, fingers digging into the flesh. Martin shudders around him, tight as a vise.

“That’s it,” Peter murmured, stroking Martin’s sweat-damp skin. “You take it so _well.”_

Martin pants, leaning against Peter’s shoulder as he adjusts to the feeling of Peter inside him. He moans as Peter moves his hips in slow, gentle circles. Peter can be kind when he wants to, and the sounds Martin makes are well worth the effort.

“P-peter—”

“I’ve got you, love,” Peter says, squeezing Martin’s hips.

Braced by Peter’s hands, Martin raises himself up before sinking all the way down again, grinding down against Peter’s body. Peter seizes him by the hair and pulls him in for a kiss, knowing Martin will taste himself on Peter’s tongue. Martin seems to like it, by the choked little sound he makes.

Peter slips a hand between the two of them, rubbing Martin’s cock, and feels Martin tighten  down around him.

“F-fuck, Peter, that’s—sensitive—”

Martin jams his fist against his mouth, stifling a deep groan as Peter thrusts up into him.

“What, are you going to come for me again?” Peter asks teasingly. “Going to come with my big old cock in you?”

Martin nods shakily, and Peter presses firmly against Martin’s swollen cock. Martin clenches down again, deliciously tight.

“I won’t stop until you beg me,” Peter tells him, moving his hips against Martin’s. “I intend to fuck you through this one, and the next. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.”

Martin whines high in his throat as he fucks himself on Peter’s cock, his rhythm increasingly erratic.

“Come for me, love,” Peter growls, and Martin clamps down tighter than ever, soaking Peter’s trousers in a rush of fluid. Peter groans at the warmth and pressure, holding Martin close.

Martin lifts himself off Peter’s cock and sags against his chest, panting. Peter strokes Martin’s back and sides, allowing him to catch his breath. He’s lovely and warm in Peter’s lap. After a few moments, Peter shifts experimentally against him, and Martin’s breath catches in his throat.

“Ready for more?” he asks.

“I don’t think I can move,” Martin confesses.

“I’ve got you,” Peter promises. Grabbing a handful of Martin’s arse, he stands, taking Martin with him. Martin clutches him nervously, but Peter sets him gently on the desk before pushing him to lie back. From there he takes hold of Martin’s thighs, rubbing his cock against him in slow circles.

_“P-peter!”_

“Tell me you want it again,” Peter orders.

 _“Please!”_ Martin begs, biting down on his lip.

Peter grins. “Please what?”

Martin moans, raising his hips up against Peter’s. “P-please fuck me! Please m-make me come again!”

“Greedy boy,” Peter murmurs fondly. “Well, you asked for it.”

Gripping Martin’s hips, Peter slams back in. Martin cries out, wrapping his thighs around Peter, drawing him in and trapping him against his body. Peter doesn’t mind at all. He fucks Martin selfishly, hard and fast. Martin comes apart beneath him, clutching Peter for dear life.

Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had a partner so eager, so responsive to his touch. Martin loses himself in pleasure, forgetting to be quiet, forgetting to do anything but moan and clutch and beg for more of Peter’s cock. Peter’s tempted to draw things out further, see _exactly_ how much pleasure he can wring from Martin’s body, but the urgency builds inside him, and he knows he won’t last that long. Martin moans and shudders beneath him.

“I should have you like this every day,” Peter says. “Perhaps it’s not too late to—change—your job description—”

Peter loses track of what he’s saying as Martin’s thighs clench around him, pulling him deeper. Martin’s practically sobbing as Peter pounds into him, and they clutch each other tightly. The pressure builds and builds inside Peter until he comes with a loud groan, gripping Martin’s hips tight enough to bruise. Reaching between them, Peter strokes Martin’s cock until he brings him over the edge again, crying out and clenching almost painfully tight. The pressure is nearly too much, this soon after coming, but the fucked-out expression on Martin’s face is worth it.

Pulling out carefully, Peter ties off the condom and tosses it where he thinks the dust bin is, then collapses in the chair, scooping Martin into his lap. Martin collapses against his chest, face buried in the crook of Peter’s neck. His breath is warm against Peter’s skin.

“Well done,” Peter praises. Martin murmurs something unintelligible.

“We’ve worked so hard today. We deserve the afternoon off.” Peter kisses Martin’s face. “We’re both also in need of a shower. My flat has excellent water pressure.”

“You just don’t want to do your paperwork,” Martin complains.

“I just have better things to do,” Peter says, taking hold of Martin’s arse and squeezing. Martin moans.

“Come home with me,” Peter orders, and Martin agrees.

* * *

 

Several floors down, the Archivist stares blankly ahead. His breath comes in small pants, and his lips are parted. His cheeks are stained a rosy pink.

“Alright there, Jon?” Basira asks.

“O-of course,” Jon says.

“You don’t look alright.”

Jon scrubs a hand over his face.

“I think I need to have a lie down.”

“Fair enough.”

Basira pats Jon on the shoulder, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“Good lord,” Jon murmurs, before seeking out his cot.


End file.
